


The loser now will later to win

by Eligh



Series: Legends [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Speculation, Spoilers for 1x07, this ship is making me pull my hair out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eligh/pseuds/Eligh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len has made a very bad plan (my speculation of which will be Jossed next week, I'm sure).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The loser now will later to win

He fires the gun.

He fires the gun, and Mick watches—Len would say coolly, except that nothing about Mick is _cool—_ as the cold beam passes an inch from his scarred ear. Asshole doesn’t even blink.

“Goddamn it, fuck you, you, you, you fucking fuck!” Len rages. He makes to throw the gun on the ground but thinks better of it, holstering it with enough force that his leather gear creaks and pops a seam at his rough treatment. “Why the _fuck_ , Mick, I thought we were—why did you do this?” He turns away, grabbing hold of his head with both hands and hanging it. “Goddamn it. You can’t come back on the ship. You ruined fucking everything.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Mick clears his throat. “Didn’t… I didn’t think you’d care, honestly.”

Len turns to him, pain clear enough on his face that Mick takes a shaky step backward. “Of course I _care_ , you idiot.”

Mick’s face clouds over. “Don’t call me an idiot.”

Deflating, Len runs his hands over his short hair again. He’s been letting it grow, because Mick—well, Mick had made an offhand comment ages ago, back when they were still in Central City. Back when Mick running his thick fingers through Len’s hair was something they could afford to think about.

“Of course you’re not an idiot,” he sighs. “But that still doesn’t mean I can bring you back to the ship.” He takes a deep breath and then stares hard at Mick. “Tell me why.”

Mick’s jaw sets like it does when he’s anxious, but he answers readily enough. “First y’said we should take a break. Then Rip—” he pauses long enough for his hands to clench into fists. “—said that he didn’ want me here. Said I had th’ IQ of meat.”

Len goes still, but Mick doesn’t seem to notice, shaking his head and looking down at the ground. “So I figured, hey, Lenny doesn’ want me, Hunter only took me on ‘cause you an’ I were a ‘package deal,’ and so… what’s th’ point?”

“What did he say to you?” Len asks softly. It’s enough to make Mick look up warily. Leonard Snart is at his most dangerous when he’s soft, and quiet, and calm.

“…Jus’ that. Meat. You n’ me as a package. Serial arsonist wasn’ ever his first pick.”

Len looks back over his shoulder, back towards where the ship was idling over a low hill. “I see.”

The silence in the clearing Len chose for this little standoff stretches, Len tilting his head up to stare at the stars, Mick staring at Len. Their breath steams in the chill night air.

Eventually Len nods. “Okay. I have a plan.”

“Oh, lovely,” Mick says sarcastically. “B’cause your plans always work out so well for me.”

“I can still shoot you,” Len snaps, but Mick meets his ire with a wry smile that makes Len calm slightly.

“Tell me the plan,” Mick prompts.

Len takes a step forward and catches Mick around the back of the neck, dragging him forward and pressing their foreheads together. “First,” he says, “you’re going to kiss me like we’re going to solitary and won’t see each other for years.”

“I’m fine with this plan so far,” Mick says agreeably, dropping his hands to Len’s waist—the better to hang on tight, Len supposes—and proceeds to follow Len’s instructions to the letter.

Ten minutes or so later, with Len backed up against a tree and both of them panting and hard in their pants, Len jerks his head back and swallows thickly. “Second,” he says—Mick groans and drops his head onto Len’s shoulder. “ _Secondly_ ,” Len tries again, “it’s 1954. I want you to find Vandal Savage and join his men.”

It’s surprising enough of an order to get Mick to look up. “What?”

“And be my spy,” Len tells him, reaching up and touching his fingers to a particularly deep burn scar on Mick’s neck. “It’ll… you’ll be able to burn as much as you want to.” He searches Mick’s face for some sign of agreement. “Just remember to miss when it’s me in your sights.”

Mick’s brow furrows. It’s not the cleanest of plans, but Len’s improvising here. The fact that he’s… possibly… reevaluating his priorities doesn’t mean that Mick’s still not going to be at the top of the list. But Mick has different needs, and Len, well. He wants to be a good partner. He _tries_.

“Y’don’t want the world to burn,” Mick says slowly.

“Chaos is fine,” Len says quickly, because it _is_ , and Len will never not revel in it. “But I want to live with my spoils when it’s all said and done. Live with you.” He hesitates slightly. “And maybe… your particular skillset isn’t best on this side of the thing.”

Mick looks dubious, and Len can’t resist; he leans forward and kisses him firmly. A reassurance. Mick lets him do it, but doesn’t look at ease when Len pulls away. “But y’want me to spy. I’m not sure…”

“Are you saying you can’t?” Len asks, arching a brow.

“I can,” Mick growls. “I’m not a fuckin’ dummy, Lenny.”

“I know,” Len soothes. “I know, Mick. So do this for me, and when we win, you and I can go home, go back to tearing up the world our own way. Make it ours.”

Mick searches his face for a long moment; for what, Len isn’t sure. But finally he nods, his square jaw set. “Yeah,” he says. “I c’n do it for you.”

Len grins. “There’s one final part to my plan,” he says, and when Mick cocks his head, Len reaches into his own pocket and emerges with a small tube of lubricant. Mick’s eyes go heated, and in the moment, it’s the only thing Len could possibly want.

~

“Did you,” Hunter begins to say as Len walks (slightly stiffly) up the gangplank, but Len—without breaking stride, mind you—cuts off any inquiry with a sharp lefthanded crack to the jaw and a follow-up gut punch.

“This is _your_ fucking fault,” he hisses, pulling Hunter up by the lapel on his pretentious coat. Hunter, for his part, looks shocked beyond reason, but Len won’t let this dazed idiot get off so easy. “The ‘IQ of meat’ Hunter, do you ever listen to the words coming out of your mouth?”

Hunter’s eyes harden, though he doesn’t try to wriggle away. “Don’t tell me you—”

“I’m well aware of my partner’s shortcomings,” Len spits. “And while he and I weren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye recently, do not doubt that it was your words that drove him over the edge.” He drops his hold and Hunter collapses in a pathetic pile on the ground. Len’s aware that he’s caught the attention of the rest of the team—they’re standing in a loose line at the apex of the gangplank: Sara and Jax looking indignant, though with whom Len isn’t sure; Kendra and Palmer appear worried; Stein seems unimpressed with the show.

He squats, grabbing Hunter’s face with cool fingers. “Mick Rory has been my partner for nearly thirty years. You talk about saving your family—everything you do is to save your family.” He shakes Hunters head for emphasis. “ _Mick_ is my family. So know that while your actions doomed your own wife and child, they’ve also sent _my_ husband into the care and keeping of a madman.”

Hunter blinks at him, unable to speak. Whether from shock or from Len’s painful grip on his jaw, Len isn’t sure. He certainly doesn’t care. “Mick is going to go undercover with Savage’s men. If you hurt him again, I will kill you.”

And with that, he releases his hold and straightens up, tugging his coat back into place. His cold gun wobbles precariously in the half-ruined holster, reminding him—painfully—that he needs to make some repairs. Mick was always the one to see to the picky little things like that; sewing, mending, tinkering.

Len takes a breath and tries not to think too hard about what he’s going to do now that he’s alone.

“Well,” he growls, stalking up the gangplank and brushing past the remaining crew. They part quickly, clearly wanting to give him a wide berth, but he pauses once he’s in their midst.  “What are we standing around for? Don’t we have murders to plan?”

“Yeah,” Sara says. “Let’s—let’s get planning.”

Len nods once and heads further into the ship. The sooner this is done, the sooner Savage is killed, the sooner the day is won, the sooner he can get Mick back.

**Author's Note:**

> sdkjflsbdkfjalsdn this fukkin ship it is killing me 
> 
> also: so rip hunter's the worst. every word that comes out of his mouth makes me twitch in a rage. I wonder if the writers are doing it on purpose?


End file.
